A Moment of Weakness
by plumeria-hi
Summary: The tears gave way. Italy could hear herself hyperventilating. She stood up from her chair, staggering on her feet before slamming against the wall (with no pain at all, for there was an even greater one overpowering her and it was overpowering fast.) Italy noticed her vision growing darker.


**Well, for starters, this was the first fan fiction I've ever written (not to mention the pain I went through copying every single word from a notebook onto my computer... Well, I'm learning, ahaha!). So, by the time you've finished this, you would learn that I am a STUBBORN gerita supporter (and when I say _stubborn_ I mean I'm never pairing them with anything else, EVER!). Oh! And as a foreword, I'd just like to tell everyone that this is nyotalia (fem! versions) and that I did not intend this to be historically accurate.**

**So, um, read it and tell me what you think in the reviews section, 'kay? Reviews and constructive criticism will be much appreciated!**

* * *

Today was the day- Italy was sure of it! Germany has probably called her for… the 'confession' (as Italy has often referred to it that way).

It was no secret that Italy had a deep infatuation on the other (which she will gladly admit); all the chasing around and hugging made it obvious to the others. However, Italy had considered it a one-sided thing until she caught a peek at her friend's (_not for long!_ Italy thought cheerfully) 'private' journal.

Now it was all coming true. The brunette felt like _flying_!

As a matter of fact, Italy did fly through Germany's door (a routine that has become daily for the resident).

"Germanyyyyyyy!" She called into the neat (aside from the doorway- now who's fault could _that _be?) abode.

Germany's tousled hair appeared through the living room door, followed by the rest of her robust (Italy never tires of seeing it) figure.

However, one look at the other's face and Italy felt her hopes falter slightly- there was something about the way Germany's eyes were staring stonily at her, the way she was posed as formal as ever (more formally, if that was possible). It scares her; she can't help admitting.

"…Germany?" She ventured, edging closer towards the nation despite the atmosphere thickening drastically between them.

"Italy… We need to talk."

She motioned for Italy to follow her into the living room.

_Well… It's probably just her… Game face! Yes! _Italy convinced herself as she plopped down on a chair opposite to Germany's.

The chair felt harder and colder- or was it her hopes crumbling away?

"So, what would you like to talk about?" Italy cringed as 'about' wavered nervously at the end.

_What on Earth is happening!_

"Italy, you're… You're aware that we- the axis powers, I mean- we're on the losing side, right?" Germany choked, running a hand through her hair (for once, Italy wasn't swooning), "The Allies are closing in and-"

"_WHAT!_" Italy squirmed in her seat, for this was the topic of conversation she least expected to occur (not that anybody was to blame her- it _is _the weekend and Italy hasn't paid attention to the fact that war doesn't come prepackaged with weekends or breaks), "But… But _how_! We've been working _so _hard! We can't lose! We've invaded Paris, and Japan bombed the… Well, Japan bombed that harbor America loves so much! Remember Germany? Remember? What about all those countries you've conquered and Poland and Stalingrad and-"

"I'm not finished."

Italy fell quiet. It wasn't like Germany to silence her- despite it being her bad habit to rant on and on like she did just now.

"Italy… We are not here to talk about the war."

"Not about the war? Then what?" Italy grew anxious, her hopes now hanging by a thread.

"Italy, we are here to talk about you."

"Wha- _me!_" Italy cried, forgetting her optimistic side (and her earlier prediction of the events that would occur that morning- yes, Italy woke up early specially for this).

"Italy", Germany continued, unaware of (_or ignoring_, Italy gulped) the other's look of astonishment, "You need to be stronger. I'm not implying anything negative- but the fact is just that you"- with a gulp- "don't seem to be taking this war as seriously as you should be. Don't get me wrong- you are determined and strong and"- with a blush- "you're an amazing woman- nation. I can't forget the time you backed me up against England and America but…"

"Germany… I like you!"

Hanging by that last thread.

Germany instantly looked up; her face turning beet-red and her pupils shrank in astonishment.

"…What?"

Italy flung herself into the arms of her ally, clinging onto her for dear life, "I love you Germany! It means what it means and I MEAN it! I know you boss might not approve, b-b-but I'll figure a way! I LOVE you! I've loved you since the moment we've met- do you know that? Do you? PLEASE say yes Germany! Do you…"

It was a while before Italy realized that the other was not listening (even Italy knows that). She was simply staring ahead, her face showing no emotions- any love, or happiness, or relief. Just cold, cold, cold, and the frigidness of it all bit through Italy's last thread. There was a long moment of awkward silence, where Italy bit her tears back, before Germany lifted the other up easily off her and back onto her chair. What was once the warmest pair of hands in the world fell from the embrace altogether.

"… No Italy."

Italy could feel her face burning (_why? Why?_). The tears were threatening to overpower her.

"… What?"

"No Italy. Sorry, but no."

Italy felt her world spin, topsy-turvy, where up was down and left was right and the ocean was green and the grass grew blue. She felt sick to her stomach. No? _No!_ But she was so sure! How could this happen?

… _No._

The tears gave way. Italy could hear herself hyperventilating. She stood up from her chair, staggering on her feet before slamming against the wall (with no pain at all, for there was an even greater one overpowering her and it was overpowering _fast_.) Italy noticed her vision growing darker.

What other reason was there to live? Life had no meaning anymore.

Happiness has no meaning.

_The more I love Germany, the weaker I become…_

_ It was love all along!_

_ That _was her weakness! Yes, that was the weakness she needed to fix.

The tears had stopped falling. There was something in that skinny frame that felt stronger. Her vision had completely darkened into a vermillion hue.

She stood up straight and gazed coldly at Germany, her former _friend._

She'll be sorry she ever found Italy that day in that crate.

She'll pay for poisoning her thought with useless dreams and hopes and crazy love-talk.

Love did not matter anymore.

Through her new vision, she could see Germany gape at her; looking destroyed- not that Italy cared anymore.

Italy smirked and turned away- the sight was a bore.

"I'm glad we had this talk, Germany."

With that, she sauntered out of Germany's home, looking at the door in disgust- not at the destruction (which she was admittedly proud of now) but at what made her strong enough to tear the piece of wood off it's very foundations. But no matter- she had found something stronger.

She never looked back.

She never saw Germany in tears for the first time in cold, war-ridden years.

* * *

It had been days since that incident at Germany's house.

The Italians had already witnessed first-handedly what their beloved nation had become. This new Italy no longer greeted her people with a cheery smile and an enthusiastic 'ciao!'

No!

She would march around town, her face devoid of any emotions that hinted any desire to get friendly with the society, a butter knife (which would have been a funny sight if it weren't for the suspicious red coating the blade- and something told the civilians that it wasn't sauce) in hand. She now wore heels (more sophisticated yes, but just odd on the nation who used to stampede the countryside with nothing but her bare feet), a leer and no more mercy.

The Italians feared her.

It was as if this Italy was controlled by a second player- and that this second player had broken her.

But with enough will, a broken puppet can be fixed, right?

* * *

Italy was making a round of Rome as of usual, her butter knife poised in her right hand.

Everyone seemed to tremble underneath her presence- even Romano- who was usually bossing her around!

"Good", Italy thought triumphantly, a group of children scurrying into a nearby building as she approached their play spot on the sidewalk.

"Italy Veneziano."

Italy paused, the grip on her knife tightened. The voice seemed to be coming from behind her.

Or was it from her front?

Left?

Right?

It was echoing from everywhere!

But then again, this was a cramped district, and echoing is inevitable (her footsteps, which had not lost it's amplification, had proven that).

"Who's there? Show yourself!" She demanded, spinning from one view to another.

There was a small laugh, and a nation (for Italy recognized her immediately) with dirty-blonde hair tied into pigtails and a blue cloak enshrouding her figure appeared from the shadows.

"Heh, I'm impressed Italy- three days and you haven't challenged me into a fistfight", she smirked, adjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose.

"What do _you _want? Don't you realize you're standing on enemy ground?" she snarled.

England uttered another haughty chuckled in response and advanced a few steps towards the other. Italy had to admit that she was slightly taken aback at this careless act- something England was not famous for doing. She lashed her knife towards her.

"Do _not _do that Italy. Since you seem to be of much more wisdom now, although _I _admittedly can't see how that could be possible, I am sure that you know better than to fear an enemy who _came unarmed_", England assured, whipping her cloak off to reveal not a military suit, but a simple blue shirt and pantaloons, and not a single weapon in sight, "I am not here to wage another battle against you, but instead to make a request."

"What request?" Italy demanded, not daring to take her eyes off the other's emerald (like a cat's, a sneaky, tricky cat) orbs.

"I came to make a compromise. Now listen to what I have to say."

Reluctantly, Italy slipped her knife back into her breast pocket and narrowed her eyes.

"Talk."

England proceeded to lean against a stall, "Okay- so, here's the deal. But this deal requires you to surrender to the Allies-"

"-Now why would I do that? _Never!"_

"-I see you still possess that habit of cutting into other people's sentences", England clicked her tongue, "Now may I continue?"- Without awaiting an answer- "If you surrender- now here's your side of the compromise- the allies shall leave you and your country in peace. The war shall no longer concern you, and instead of fighting battles (_which you will surely lose, _England thought to herself) work on rebuilding your nation. Isn't that a fair deal?"

Italy thought about this for a while. Surely it would be wiser to leave the blasted war and be done with, having more time to resurrect her nation and, in time, be better than the others (and _some _'other's in particular).

But then again… By surrendering, didn't it prove to _some other _nation that she's weak, and that she's easily subjected to giving in?

"… Give me one good reason to surrender", Italy decided, folding her arms across her chest.

"Because Italy- we need _your _help. You have gotten so strong in just a matter of time- and hear this; you will be an absolutely _perfect _addition to the team. The allies welcome you with open arms."

_The allies… Welcoming an axis with open arms?_

"Just think about how happy your people will be", continued England, feeling victory approaching her side, "If the war is done, they will no longer have more to worry about. Your people can live in harmony once more. Italy, you have a whole life ahead of you. You're no longer a brash and naïve to the world, no longer a little girl- you've matured. You're now a _woman_…"-leaning into Italy's ear- "Germany could never see that" she murmured.

Italy's eyes dilated at the mention of that name.

Germany.

Her weakness. The nation who rejected her and practically kicked dirt into her eye just- what- a few days ago?

Germany never did seem to appreciate her part in the axis powers. She constantly mentioned Italy a 'much appreciated, irreplaceable teammate' (Italy wanted to laugh) but talk is cheap.

According to Germany, it wouldn't have made a difference if she never joined the axis powers in the first place.

Italy had been blind.

That is, until now.

Anger and hatred unfathomed by her before seethed through all the corners of her soul and seized her heart. Italy nodded slowly.

"So… What's it going to be, love?" England grinned, extending her hand.

Italy took it and nodded slowly, "I'll… I'll do it. It's a deal.

"But in one condition- take me with you when you battle _her._"

England smirked, "It's a deal."

* * *

After signing some paperwork, Italy was proclaimed to have surrendered the war.

Perhaps, if Italy had not been some savage malignant puppet, Romano would have began scolding her for being scared to stand up for herself, and the people of Italy would have turned to each other and shake their heads for their country's brash decision-making skills.

But this was a different Italy. Romano and the Italians had been hoping that, without the influence of the war (war can change you; the Italians learned the hard way), Italy would revert back to herself.

Oh, how wrong they were.

For some unfathomable reason, if anything it seemed to have made the girl colder.

She no longer patrolled the streets, sending civilians scattering out of her wake like animals escaping a bushfire (_perhaps this is how Veneziano see's us now; as animals_, they would whisper solemnly amongst each other), but would instead sit gazing out of the balcony like a bloodthirsty hawk, sharpening her blade and muttering to herself.

Finally the day came when she received a letter from England.

Romano could hardly sip her mug of coffee as she watched her sister slip on her uniform, boots and a coat.

"Please consider this Veneziano", poor Romano mustered the courage to choke out (the first choked-out words since the day her sister began waving a butter knife madly around the kitchen), "I-I take back _all _the bad things I said about Germany. Please don't do this, I-I know how much you adored her-"

"_Adored _her!" cried Italy, causing the other to frantically claw back onto the chair (and spilling the coffee in the process), "For your information, I no longer adore _anyone_, especially not _her_! _I adore NO ONE!_"

"Bless my stars…" Romano muttered.

"See sorella? Love is an illusion- it's a lie! But you can't see that, so you have a lot to learn" Italy nodded, picking her butter knife (which Romano had learned not to use until… Well, until Italy finds another weapon) from the counter.

Romano licked her lips nervously as she watched her sister go. All she could do now was wait and hope for the best.

Hope that somehow, her sister can come back.

* * *

It didn't take long to find England's troops, parked in the city square- there was a vast number of them that the armed infirmary can be seen just by peering through the lowest window of the colosseum. However, at closer inspections it seemed that they weren't all English soldiers.

She could catch a glimpse of China's flags hovering over the soldiers at the head of the line. Russia's flags can be spotted nearby, accompanied by France's (Italy was surprised the nation was still fighting. If Germany- the name made her sick- thought that conquering Paris was the end of it, she had a lot coming to her). A large percentage of the soldiers and tanks were decked with America's banners, fluttering proudly in the breeze.

The Allies were waiting for her. They were going to liberate Paris from Germany.

Germany…

"Ah, snap out of it!" Italy shook her head, clearing her thoughts as she made her way towards England.

England caught sight of her and waved, "Ready, Italy?"

Italy took a deep breath and nodded, "Ready."

England beamed and nodded back.

"Don't feel bad Italy, you're doin' the right thing!" America bounded over; her shoulder-lengthen curls pulsing like a great brown jellyfish as she gave her a pat on the back.

"Very true- you're helping big sister too", France nodded, gratitude shining in her violet irises.

"You're better off with us; now you can make more friends too!" Russia chipped in, clasping muffed hands together.

"Sometimes Japan can be too much", China squeezed her hand and smiled, securing the cap on her dark crown, "let's help her change too."

"We'll see about that", Italy deadpanned.

"Wow… You weren't kidding when you said the girl's got angst now" America murmured to her former charge.

"If you're going to quote me, at least don't change the words around" argued England, and before the conversation could turn into another round of bickering (and they can't have that, no, not in front of the newcomer) the Allies- and Italy- were off.

It was going to be a battle they would all remember.

* * *

As they advanced, the city of Paris could be seen; it's majestic Eiffel peeking out of the horizon.

But all around the tower, Italy witnessed the destruction created by the war (and _that nation_).

There were hardly any buildings standing. The French could be seen loitering everywhere- skinny children littering the streets, men with dark spots under their eyes.

France, who was marching not too far behind, took a glance towards her former glory and burst into tears.

"There's no more love here", she sobbed as America slung an arm over her shoulder.

_They need me, just look at how weak they are, _thought Italy as she watched the other Allies embrace their comrade.

Just then they spotted Germany's troops advancing towards them from the heart of the city. The Allies quickly reassembled (and Italy had to admit she was amazed at how quick they did). France snarled, picked herself up and drew a rapier from the folds of her violet cape.

But wait… what's this?

Waving amongst the throng of soldiers amongst with the familiar (and now much-disdained) flag of black, red and yellow was another banner.

It was a white banner, with an image of the rising red sun casting crimson rays in all directions.

From the corner of her eyes, Italy saw China falter for a second.

A nation (yes, Italy recognized her too) wearing a white uniform led the way, a sword clutched in her white-gloved hand.

"Don't waste your time. I, Germany's humble ally the land of the rising Sun, Japan, is here to-"

Before she could finish, Japan's eyes fell on her former ally. Italy could see a shadow of surprise cross over her brown eyes (it often amused her that while others' eyes would twinkle in delight, Japan always seemed to have a shadow cast over her pair).

However, just as it had appeared, the shadow was soon replaced with something else the dullness failed to hide.

It was as if, somehow, Japan knew. Knew that this wasn't the same Italy who taught her how to cook pasta. Knew that this Italy never ran to her for an embrace every time she lost a brawl with the other nations.

"… You…" Japan, for once, couldn't find any other words to address this nation before her, "What business do _you_ have"- pointing at the Allies- "with _them_?"

"She's conceded defeat", China rushed to Italy's side, "She's better off with people who know how to make good decisions."

Japan seemed taken aback, but then regained her cool, "I would prefer it if the answers came from _her_, thank you."

Now it was China's turn to be perturbed. Italy watched them with mild amusement; China and Japan, two of the greatest Asian countries to ever exist- and they were both weaker than her.

But she was not here to watch bickering. She must stay on focus.

Italy stepped forward, hands braced to reveal her knife should Japan try anything, "Where're Germany?"

"I thought you might like to know- but you'll have to move fast if you want to catch up", the nation said, solemnity tracing her voice.

"I want straight answers- _where is she? _Don't you dare try any scams Japan, there's no use hiding her."

"Germany is on her way to Rome- your capital- at this very minute", Japan answered.

"Well- how do I know you are not lying to me?" Italy squinted, not quite digesting the fact that Germany was on her way to _her _capital at this very moment (whatever reason could ascertain _that_?)

But to her surprise, Japan's expression softened as she took a step forward.

"You are still an ally to me whether you like it or not; a Japanese woman must prevail even the toughest emotional ordeal."

Before Italy could question this 'emotional ordeal', Japan pressed a piece of parchment into Italy's hands. On closer inspection, she could see that Germany is clearly the writer.

"Read it", Japan instructed.

_To my ally, the country of Japan_

_I know this is so sudden, but I'm going to Rome first thing tomorrow. I'm expecting the Allies to be in Paris tomorrow- I've prepared men for you to lead. Please hold them back as long as you can. I've got no time to explain further, only that if I don't do this I may never be able to live with myself. I need to see her as soon as possible. Once again, I'm terribly sorry for the burden I am bestowing on you._

_I'm leaving now._

_Sincerely_

_The country of Germany_

Italy could only stare at the letter. A wave of emotions overcame her. This letter… Could the reason for this be that Germany?

No!

"Why is she tormenting me?" Italy murmured, feeling the blood boil in her veins again, "I can't keep living like this!"

"Italy… What does the letter say?" England interfered, not wanting to lose the victory that was just at arm's reach.

"England, I can't leave like this! _It's driving me insane and it will eat me alive!_ It's about time I settle this once and for all! _Then _we shall see whether she'll dare to weaken me again!"

Before anyone could utter another word, Italy ran at blinding speed back towards home, her butter knife winking in the distance.

* * *

England could only stare.

Stare as her brilliant plan dashed away (and bless Britannia, that nation could run like the wind).

Her plan. It was failing before her eyes. The plan to separate the Axis and destroy them one by one- the strategy they- _she_- worked so hard on planning.

It was all going down.

But England wasn't one to go down without a brawl- the sea has taught her that.

The Allies are _far _from losing, and the war wasn't going to go down in history that way. She wasn't going to give in to defeat just like that.

"Allies, retreat! Follow Veneziano- we must be sure they're separated for good!"

* * *

Japan was left alone (not to gloat, for that wasn't something a Japanese woman should do) after the Allies went to pursue Italy.

She had long suspected the Allies were up to something- and they had fallen right into her trap.

Then her thoughts fell back to Italy. Something must have happened to turn Italy cold. Did her allies have an argument of some sort? Japan couldn't recall hearing from any one of them until recently when she received Germany's letter.

But Japan was a tactician by nature, and age had brought her the advantage of wisdom and experience. At that moment, her crafty mind was already formulating a plan. Piecing and pulling together until…

Yes. There was still some hope left to bring Italy (yes, _Italy!) _back.

All she had to do was prevent them from being separated again.

_ I may be an old woman… But that does not necessarily mean I do not know the way of the youngsters_.

"Men", she turned to face the infirmary before her, "Gather your weapons and supplies; we are advancing to Rome. Take the detour through the valleys and march fast. It is an assault."

* * *

Germany couldn't remember a period in her life when she felt this… Broken.

Oh, what a strong force love can be.

Germany had loved the other nation since the day they first met (_love at first sight, _she thought with a sigh). Since then, it was all Italy, day and night. Her mind prohibited her from thinking of anything else. She anticipated every axis meeting, and every training session, always filled to the brim with the nation's antics and ecstatic squealing. Pleasant warmth would wash over her whenever Italy embraced her in a hug (no matter how much of a squeeze it would often get). Of course, there would always be gratitude whenever she found a steaming plate of pasta on her table after a long day of work.

How stupid she had been to not tell her sooner.

She regretted what she said- this she was willing to admit.

Now- Italy was just as broken as she was, if not more.

It was all her fault.

As the days crept by, the feeling tugging at her heart grew more fervently, like a wailing siren at the back of her mind (and anyone who has experienced this would surely know that it is not at all a pleasant feeling- especially considering the fact that there was work to be constantly done). Soon Germany found herself trapped in depression.

Every meal was stale and cold- until she gave up eating altogether. This was accompanied by sleepless nights.

When news caught fire that Italy had surrendered the war, Germany felt she couldn't take it anymore.

She couldn't _live _without Italy.

So now Germany was standing amidst the colosseum (Italy's favorite place in the whole city; Germany remembered), hoping against all hopes that Italy would show up soon.

"… Italy? Are you here?" Germany called out into the vast expanse.

As if in reply, the colosseum became engulfed in darkness.

* * *

The closer Rome loomed into view, the more England felt her stomach wrenched in anxiousness.

She _had _to find Italy… Before Italy found Germany. If that should happen, where would she be left standing? What then?

"England!" America cried, sprinting alongside her, "What do ya reckon we do now?"

England thought about this for a moment before coming to a decision.

This- or the plan would be conceded a failure.

"Scour the whole city! Find Italy! Bring her back here and make sure we don't lose sight of her again!" England declared.

America raised her eyebrows. So far it was nothing but a losing streak for them. First it was Paris, and then it was her beloved harbor (America still had nightmares about it- why, oh _why _did it have to be _her_?), followed by more unfortunate turns of events. The Allies were no doubt desperate, and victory must- no, _will _be theirs. Thus they were willing to try anything at this point- and this included complying with England's plan.

Even America had to admit that it was a pretty good plan, and she was more than willing to oblige a few days ago. But now, standing back in square one with a thousand weary soldiers, the nation wasn't so sure anymore.

"B-but… England, isn't this risky? We have weary men and Rome is a big place. We can try again another day- I mean, think about it! Italy surrendered and-"

"What! And _what _America!" England snapped, "I know what I'm doing! I can do this! Why don't you believe I can do this? You're not the only one capable of leading a team you know- I have to at least try!"

America could only stare at her former charge. England…

England had never looked this upset since…

Since the revolution…

"England… I'm sorry…"

"We have to at least try! We're so close!"

"America, come now. England has made her point clear; please do not fight. Let us get this over with so you two can be friends again", Russia intervened.

Russia… The only person who knew how to stay so relaxed in a battlefield. But what did _she _know about issues like this? Ukraine had always been a kind and loving brother- they never fought as far as America was concerned. As for Belarus… well, that was a different case, but at least he stayed on good terms with his sister as well.

However, the nation knew that her ally meant well, and decided to let it slide for now.

America turned to their troops.

"Split to your assigned groups and infiltrate the capital. Bring Italy Veneziano back as soon as possible-"

"-I'm afraid I can't let you do that."

The Allies swiveled around and immediately fell into astonishment to find Japan facing them, blocking the entrance to the city.

"As if I didn't know what you were up to", the nation leered, and with one swift motion of her hand her soldiers appeared, rearranging into formation as one by one they appeared out of various hiding places.

England could only gape at this unfortunate turn of events; before she was granted her senses back once more at the realization of an easy victory for the enemy.

"It's an assault! Stand you ground!" She screamed amidst the thundering footsteps of Japan's army advancing towards them.

_ They'll never win, _Japan thought with amusement, feeling her plans unfold. _They've backfired. They've been caught._

Then she let her thoughts drift back to Italy and Germany. She wondered if Germany had found her other ally yet and whether they were on good terms once more.

At that moment, as if under the command of some dark force, storm clouds as puce and black as night shrouded over the colosseum, shrouding the landmark in an unperceivable veil of darkness.

* * *

"How on Earth…" Germany breathed, not daring to take a step back or forth in case her surroundings have changed as well (it's possible, considering recent events).

She was starting to get jittery. How was it possible for landmark _with an open roof_ to darken in just a matter of seconds in the middle of a sunny afternoon in _Italy?_

Just then, Germany heard it. Faint at first, but gradually increasing in volume (and emotion- it shuddered the nation to the bone). It was laughter- ominous and mocking, bounding off the vast amphitheater so Germany couldn't make heads or tails where it was coming from.

Then she saw the faint glimmer of metal in the corner of her peripheral vision. Germany recognized it instantly as the glimmer of a blade. Immediately her hand felt for her combat knife, hanging at her belt, and unsheathed it, holding it out in front of her.

"Who's there?" She demanded, gulping when 'there!' faltered and ended up a 'there?' that failed to mask her growing sense of dread.

The ominous laughter grew louder and the glimmer of the other blade disappeared. A few seconds later Germany felt a small pressure on her own knife. To her horror, something wet and warm crawled over her face. Gasping, she stumbled back and felt the ambiguous presence move away, cackling at it's victim's (_her, _she dreaded the thought) reaction.

She had to get away.

Feeling in the dark, Germany's hands secured itself against a pillar.

However, the sense of security was quickly put out by a torch above her, which lit itself spontaneously. This sliver of light was just enough for Germany to realize that the tip of her blade was outlined by fresh blood- a vermillion liquid dripping off the hilt sickly. For reasons unknown to her, her hand immediately went up to her forehead, only to find that the substance was coating it as well.

"I must have cut myself in the dark", she told herself, despite the fact that on closer inspections there was not a single (fresh) wound on her body.

The cackling could be heard again- only this time on the other side of the colosseum, still darkened.

_ This is becoming a very sick joke…_

"Hello? Who's there? Show yourself!" Germany begged, feeling her way back into the darkness of the colosseum.

Every time her hands pressed against a column, a lamp above her lip up just as the first one had. Her heart sank, her stomach flipped as the colosseum was steadily filled with eerie light, which created a sinister effect in contrast to the storm clouds (storm clouds? Germany couldn't remember the last time…) overcasting the amphitheater.

Finally, she got to the last pillar.

She braced herself for whoever- or _what_ever, was about to greet her once the colosseum was fully illuminated.

When the last lamp was illuminated, Germany could only…

Find that she was alone in the vast expense.

"Well… This is strange", Germany muttered to herself before turning to exit the colosseum.

All the lamps flickered off, bathing her in complete darkness once more, only to flicker on a few seconds later to reveal a nation (_that _nation) standing in the middle of the colosseum grounds.

The nation was a young woman, wearing heels (which Germany would've considered odd if it weren't for her current circumstances) and clad in a tanned uniform. Her curly mess of brown hair was tied back into a high ponytail, a single strand sticking out from behind her left ear. One gloved hand clutched a butter knife that seeped with a red substance; the other hand exposed a deep cut, fresh essence still oozing from the finger to the wrist. The nation turned to reveal blazing eyes. The nation smirked.

Germany recognized who it was immediately.

"Still remember me?" The nation cackled.

_ How can I forget? _Germany thought to herself, unable to revert her gaze from those crimson orbs that seemed to pierce into her very being.

The nation made a step to where Germany stood rooted to the ground.

"Why are you here?"

_ Step._

"Why don't you answer me, _Germany?_"

_Step._

"What's wrong? Lost your voice?"

_ Step._

"Germany?"

"-Italy! Stop! _Stop!_" Germany cried, "Why? Why are you doing this?"

"Hmph, rather impressive, you. I thought you would have had it already figured out", Italy leered, "But you haven't answered my question yet. What are you doing back?"

"Italy…" Germany choked, pent-up emotions released, "I'm sorry, alright? I'm sorry! That is why I'm back!" The nation sank to the floor, tears running down her cheeks, accompanied by ragged breathing.

"I love you Italy. I've hurt you- but I love you. I loved you since the day I found you, all those years ago. I loved you through all those wars we've been through. I didn't even _care _if we lost the first world war- and I won't have a care in the world if we lose _this _one too! Just as long as I can see you, embrace you, see you every day- I'm happy. Please come back. I'll do anything- _anything!_ Just come back to the axis… Come back to _me_."

To Italy, this was a sudden turn of events. She certainly wasn't expecting this- something similar, but not _this_.

Not alien emotions beginning to abduct _her._

But then she remembered her new way.

She had a new _life_, new _obligations_.

_ Germany could never see that_, England had said.

The lamps overhead began to flicker and toss and turn in an invisible wind. Germany saw Italy's eyes turn a complete hue of red- as red as the blood on her hand. She scowled, the butter knife glimmering in her other hands, hungry for blood and _revenge_.

"…You could never see that", she hissed, staggering towards where Germany was crumpled on the floor, "You could never have seen how powerful I am now without you…"

Germany could feel fear seize her. She thought about accepting the fate that was to become of her.

But if she did… She would never see Italy again.

No… There was no way she was going to give up on Italy just yet.

"No… You're wrong! I do see! I do see what you are becoming!"

Quick as a flash, Germany picked herself up, withdrew her knife and made a mad dash to the benches. Italy growled and took to her heals, the knife still brandished in her hand.

It was the climatic showdown- the brawl of all brawls. Germany wasn't going to let this one slide this time.

* * *

As the fight progressed, England could see that she- and the Allies- are now on the losing side. Victory had left; defeat reared its ugly head in her direction (due to her ability to see 'things' England had, in her lifetime, seen plenty of ugly heads, but this one was by far the ugliest).

It was true that Japan's army was small and outnumbered in comparison to the Allies' troops. But compared to theirs, _her _army was well rested and prepared to fight, whereas their army had been marching on foot all across Europe (_and for a nation that was about to fail them all_, England thought grimly) and did not get a chance to rest for this surprise assault.

Although it was true that England was tired, it seemed to her that America seemed to be the one most badly exhausted.

The poor thing… She had never wanted to partake in war at the first place.

Bruises covered the whole length of her arms, neck and her forehead. Her hair was hanging limply at the side of her face, drenched in cold sweat. The nation could barely keep her eyes open and her breath came out ragged and tormented.

But she fought on, repelling as much soldiers as her dwindling army could manage.

England diverted her gaze to the others. France, a scar visible on her left cheek, dirt and grime caking her once-pristine attire, did not show any signs of giving in- the sight of Paris had seen to that.

China did not seem to want to back down any time soon either. Though only a few hundred men remained at her side, she fought on, wok and knife colliding with spears and shielding bullets. She wasn't going to be embarrassed again.

Poor Russia stood not far from her, bloodstained shovel gripped firmly in both hands. England was afraid that the emotionally unstable nation might start erupting in fits and collapse.

Japan, in comparison to their unfortunate lot, did not appear to have a single bruise or blemish. She watched (haughtily in England's opinion) as the Allies struggled to stay on the battlefield.

As much as it pained England to admit it, this was a fight they couldn't win.

"Allies! Retreat! Retreat!" She commanded, putting on a brave face.

Instantly Russia's complexion softened and she stared at the blood coating her shoulder in bewilderment.

China shouted a command to her men before gaping at England in bewilderment, stealing a final glance towards Japan.

France pushed her hair back and let her exhausted figure slump to the ground.

America was rendered speechless.

"England? Your… But your plan…" America started.

"We can always try again", England beamed.

Meanwhile Japan watched the enemy troops retreating, fully aware that this war is not yet over.

But at least she had bought Germany and Italy some time.

* * *

"Running away, _Germany?_" Italy called after her, getting closer and closer by the second.

Germany knew that if she stopped now, it would be over.

Suddenly, to her horror, as she ran under a lamp, the lamp combusted for the last time, flickered and died. Running under another, the same occurred. The dreadful thought dawned on Germany that she would have to run in the dark again.

Italy smirked, "Where are you going to run away to now, _Germany?_"

_ Where _do_ I run away now?_ Germany thought hopelessly, another lamp above her dead.

Then she realized that was the last lamp.

Run in the dark it is.

"What are you going to do now _Germany?"_ Italy's voice seemed to be getting closer (not that Germany had any way of knowing now, but she was still sprinting all the same).

Germany figured that since the outer circle of the colosseum was, well, a circle, if she kept running there was a possibility that she might not run into anything.

But what she forgot was the fact that Italy was fully aware of this too.

Germany was so busy running that for a while she didn't notice of it. Didn't notice that…

"…Something's wrong", the nation skidded to a halt.

The sound of footsteps after her had stopped.

"_Germanyyyyyyy_… Where are you?"

There was a giggle, twisted and malignant, that echoed across the expanse of the colosseum. It came from the center of the landmark. Germany didn't know what to do anymore than to pray that Italy didn't gain any dark-penetrating vision in the process of 'changing'.

_ Now _it was a dead end.

"_Germanyyyyyyy_…"

This time the voice came from above her. She could just make out the blink of two red pupils in the darkness.

"I wonder where _Germany _could be..." The voice sailed from one corner of the colosseum to another until it was just a few feet from where she stood (wherever that may be).

"Hmmm…"

A lamp flickered to life above her, followed by Italy's silhouette moving from the darkness.

"Found you."

* * *

Germany only had time to unsheathe her combat knife before Italy let out an unearthly hiss and lunged at her, knife poised in front of her chest. She barely had time to parry the blow; it's sharp point just grazing her throat.

"Give up Germany, I'm stronger now! Stronger than _you'll_ ever be!" Italy growled, preparing herself for another strike.

Germany leaped to the side just in time to avoid a stab in the abdomen, "Italy, let's settle this calmly!"

"It's too late for that!" Italy cried, frantically stabbing and slashing, for nothing mattered anymore than sweet, sweet revenge, "You should've thought about that _before any of this happened_! You shouldn't have come back for me!"

As far as Italy was concerned, Germany had to disappear. She had to die, or at least live through unbearable pain-

No- she had to die.

She had to be _destroyed_!

"Why did you have to come back? I'm stronger now! Stronger! I'm stronger than when I lingered around _you_!"

"Italy, stop this nonsense!"

"I've stopped _nonsense _alright! I'm _over_ it! You had to come back and try to weaken me all over again! You just _had _to, didn't you!"

"Italy, this is madness!"

"Loving_ you _is madness!"

"Stop it!"

"_No!_"

Italy let out a scream of fury before slashing her knife, opening a deep gash onto Germany's right hand.

The combat knife clattered onto the concrete floor, in a mixture of two nation's essence.

Scarlet seeped through the opening, tainting her glove. Germany clasped it and gasped in pain.

_ Pathetic_, Italy watched the nation keep over, _She lived to survive two world wars, and now she is crying over a hand._

On closer inspection, it wasn't only 'a hand'. Blood began trickling everywhere- through a gash in Germany's cheek, on her forehead (this time from an actual wound), her left shoulder, her pelvis.

Her worst wounds were not caused by any war.

Her ally caused them; an ally she loved.

Using her last remaining efforts, Germany lifted her head and forced herself to stare at Italy (or what seemed to be Italy- Germany still couldn't accept the fact). Blood trickled down the side of her head, staining her blonde hair, mixing with tears.

Italy saw that the wound was deeper than she thought it would be. Her butter knife had nearly gone through the other side of her hand (and keep in mind that a great amount of strength would be required for a _butter knife_ to be able to accomplish that feat), and the blood wouldn't be stopping any time soon, that was obvious.

Then Germany slumped to the floor of the colosseum, a steady pool of red beginning to grow under her unconscious form, staining the stone floor.

Italy knelt down to examine the nation. She was still alive- just out cold.

"No problem" Italy shrugged, "I'll deal with it later."

Italy gazed at the body lying on the floor in mild amusement, "She looks like she's sleeping."

Italy remembered back then when she convinced Germany to let her sleep in the other nation's bed (a foolish act, she now thought)- she would wake up in the middle of the night to hear Germany grunting and tossing and turning in her slumber. Italy had the sick thought that stabbing Germany could make the other sleep well again.

For the amusement of it, Italy snatched the nation's limp hand into the air. The blood felt warm, squelching slightly in the glove. Italy tore the garment off and, for some reason unknown to her, looked at the pinkie first.

The pinkie…

It was a few sizes bigger than hers, if their pinkies were to be entwined-

A sudden impulse made Italy drop the hand. In her other hand, the butter knife slid from her grasp and fell with a 'clunk' onto the floor.

Didn't that happen before?

Yes… It _did _happen before.

Italy clutched her head and curled up into a ball next to the unconscious nation. A migraine unlike any that she had ever experienced beat at her head, until a sudden flash of white before her peripheral vision (which was unusual, considering the fact that her new vision made everything a darker hue) cut the pain short.

The next time Italy opened her eyes, she was no longer in the colosseum. She was, instead, atop a hill overlooking Rome- and there were two of her. No- the other wasn't aware of her presence.

She saw herself lying on her back on soft grass alongside… _Germany._

"A flashback", Italy muttered to herself, finding herself unable to divert her gaze from the memory being played before her.

She and Germany were watching the clouds as they made their tranquil parade across the azure expanse. Her ponytail was undone and Germany wasn't wearing her military coat, instead a simple shirt and trousers. It was simple and comfortable.

She saw herself turn to face Germany.

"Hey Germany", she began in a cheerful voice (cheerful- now when was the last time that occurred with her?)

Germany turned to face her, "Yes?"

"The sky's really pretty, isn't it?"

Italy had to admit, the sky _was _beautiful on that particular day- and everyday for that matter.

Not that she realized that anymore.

"… Yes it is", Germany nodded.

She and Germany stared deep into each other's eyes. Italy could remember that gaze, and how it seemed to last for an eternity.

"… Hey Germany."

"Hm?"

"Have you… Ever done this- watch clouds- with anyone else before?"

"No, I've actually never watched clouds before", Germany admitted, "and Prussia isn't exactly the best person to be watching clouds with."

She saw herself burst into laughter. Italy herself uttered a low chuckle at the memory- she knew how Prussia was.

"I see…" Italy continued, "So…"

"What is it, Italy?"

"Does that make me your friend?"

Germany stared at her in confusion, "A friend?" the nation repeated, "I've… I've never had any of those… What is this 'friend' you are speaking of?"

"A friend is a person who you are acquainted with; someone who might run off, but will always end up coming back, someone to talk to and share memories with- someone you share a special bond with. A friend is someone you like, and who likes you."

Italy found herself saying the last line in unison with her memory. She was surprised she still remembered.

Germany stared into her eyes once more. Her blue irises were engulfed in thought, but soon gave way to a look of warmth, which matched the soon-to-be smile grazing her lips.

"Oh… Well, in that case then I guess that _does _makes you my friend", Germany nodded.

She saw herself smile, "That's good then."

"Hey Italy… That makes me your friend too, right?"

"Oh yes!" Italy cheered.

Italy could remember how her voice elevated at the response; so enthusiastic and happy. Italy remembered being happy.

"So… As your _friend_… What should I do?"

Italy saw herself smile and take Germany's hand in hers, "Let's just stay together forever and ever and ever."

"-And ever", Italy added to herself, feeling her breath choke in her throat.

She saw herself entwine her pinkie into Germany's and, squeezing it, said with a smile, "I'll promise you that, Germany."

Germany grinned and squeezed back, "Yes, I promise too."

That- Italy realized- was the start of their special bond together.

Another flash of white erupted, and Italy found herself whisked in the midst of another memory.

She and Germany had just recently returned from a war against England and France. It was the start of the second world war- Italy remembered clearly, and although they had managed to succeed in capturing Paris, Germany hadn't escaped battle unscathed.

It was in her blood, after all.

Italy saw herself wrapping Germany's wrist with much cheering and humming, before jumping to her feet.

"Finished!" She declared.

Italy remembered how she used to enjoy watching the bandage wrap around and around Germany's wrist, like spaghetti around a fork.

"…Thank you Italy."

"Ah, don't mention it", she saw herself cheer, "I get into more accidents and bandages compared to you."

"That is true" Germany laughed, "But I thank you for it all the same. And… thank you for helping out earlier today. You were very strong."

"Really?" Italy saw her eyes (which were brown and always catching the light no matter what angle she tilted her head- she realized she loved those eyes better than the crimson ones she had now) glisten in glee, "But we promised each other we would stick around no matter what, remember?

"Besides", she patted the wrist gently; "I couldn't just leave you out in the battlefield like that. Two against one is not fair- that is why we cannot have fistfights with more than two opponents at the same time, see? Also I care about you Germany- very much! I don't like it when you get hurt."

Germany beamed, before taking her into an embrace. Italy remembered how warm it was and beamed as well.

Whenever Germany hugged her, she felt as if nothing bad could ever happen, she realized.

Afterwards, a third flashback presented itself to her.

This time they were in Germany's bedroom. If Italy could remember, it was a few minutes past midnight, and she had actually gained permission from Germany. It was the night after the battle between her and Russia (a horrible one, Italy remembered with a chill)- Germany went home that night covered in bruises and spade marks.

Italy had rolled herself off the bed (which was nothing new for her) and awoken just as her head collided with the floorboards.

Wincing in pain, she heaved herself off the floor and under the covers once more and was just about to drift back to sleep when she felt the blanket stir softly beside her.

It was Germany, who had begun to moan and grunt softly, her forehead glistening with cold sweat.

She saw herself peer down at Germany and began stroking her matted hair softly when, to her surprise, Germany grabbed her hand.

"… Italy?" The other whispered almost inaudibly.

Now she was talking in her sleep too?

"… Yes?" Italy whispered back, unsure of whether she would get a response or not.

But after a moment of grunting, the nation murmured just audibly, "don't leave me…"

Italy grinned and patted her ally's hand.

"I won't Germany. I won't."

She saw herself pull the covers over their bodies and fall back asleep; making sure Germany's hand was still in hers.

_ Perhaps it wasn't such a foolish act after all…_

* * *

There was a final flash before Italy was snapped back into reality.

Looking down, she found that Germany's hand had somehow found it's way back into her grasp.

Then the horrible realization dawned over her.

She would have done it.

She would have gone, picked up her knife and finished this once and for all, just like she originally planned to.

But she didn't.

The flashbacks… They were all so vivid. It was as if it all happened just yesterday.

Then she saw Germany, the great and powerful Germany, lying unconscious on her feet.

Her _friend_.

Italy felt hot tears cascading down her face.

Then, as if those tears purified her, her red-coated vision slowly cleared, the scarlet hue gradually vanishing until all was clear again, only to be made hazy by the tears.

She caressed Germany's face tenderly, the tears falling on the other's cheeks, as well as staining the stone floor of the colosseum.

What was she _thinking?_

It… was all love.

It was _love_ that made her prevail.

It was _love _that brought her and the Italians up and high-spirited despite the war raging amongst them.

It was _love_ that kept her fighting until the very end.

Love was whom she was deep inside. It lived and breathed in her. There was nothing she could do to change that.

She had nearly lost it.

Sniffling, Italy wiped the last of the tears away, smudging her face in red and grime in the process.

"I'm sorry Germany."

Suddenly, the reality of the situation dawned on her. She remembered everything clearly.

She remembered the Allies.

They are part of the second world war- still happening.

She surrendered that war.

She had thrown her boss out of the office in a fit of rage.

She had paraded through town with a knife.

Oh god, the butter knife.

Italy skidded towards where the knife lay, cringing at the thick coating of red on the blade. Cursing, she quickly rubbed it on the folds of her cloak, squealing in horror at the realization that in the process of cleaning her blade, she had dirtied something else.

She swiveled back to Germany, at the bloody hand with its deteriorating supply of blood. She had to do something fast.

Thinking quickly, Italy yanked off her heels (which was getting in the way of all the skidding she was now subjecting herself to doing- what _made _her put those on in the first place anyways?) and scrambled back to her ally (yes, her _ally_!). Ripping off a piece of cloak, she began bandaging the other nation like mad, until Germany resembled very closely a beige-coloured mummy.

"That should stop the bleeding for a while".

But Italy was well aware of the fact that the colosseum was no place to be nursing a thoroughly-slashed-and-sliced nation.

No, she had to bring Germany back.

… But the predominating question was… How?

Strength wasn't a big problem- Italy could life objects _twice _her size if she felt like it.

But wouldn't carrying a bandaged nation through the streets of Rome be making a scene-

"But since when did _I _care?" Italy proclaimed and, not thinking twice, jammed the knife back into her pocket before heaving Germany off the floor and, her feet slicing through the air and thundering down the road, made a mad dash towards home.

Once again, she felt like flying.

Once again, she flew through everything.

* * *

_ Crash!_

_ Boom!_

_ Bam!_

The Italians whimpered and gasped in their various 'hiding places'- _Had our nation finally gone mad and decided to pummel bombs at us?_

However, amidst trying to evacuate the buildings, they had discovered their stalls and vendors, benches and fountains alike, all in a state of complete destruction and disarray, loitered all over the street.

Up ahead, leading the way through the path of destruction was a little nation, her ponytail bouncing in the wind, sprinting like mad.

Oh, how the splinter of wood and shattering of ceramic was music to their ears!

The children grinned and embraced each other in delight. Women beamed and men nodded in approval.

The Italians were silently rejoicing, for they knew that their beloved Italy Veneziano had returned.

* * *

Germany grunted.

_ How long was I out? _Was the first thought that presented itself to her and she tried to sit up-

"-No, no, no, _NO_! You're doing it too fast you'll get a headache!"

Soft, small arms slid behind her and supported her back to lean against the bedpost.

_ The bedpost?_

Can it be?

"Veneziano, don't yell at her- remember that she's just woken up."

"But I wasn't yelling!"

_ Veneziano?_

What?

Now that her eyes had finally focused themselves, Germany could make out the fact that she was in a room (a very messy room at that. If this were any normal day, and she wasn't feeling very light-headed, Germany would spring up and grab a broom), and on a foreign bed.

But the people around her were not as foreign.

The doorway to the room was open, and Romano was leaning against the doorframe next to Japan.

But looming over her, her brown (brown!) orbs wide and staring at her anxiously, was…

"Italy?"

The nation grinned and nodded.

The memories of recent events sprang back in a flurry. Germany felt nauseated (which, apparently, showed on her face, for Italy uttered another shriek of dismay and stuffed a pillow between the bedpost and her back).

"Germany, are you okay? Don't faint again! Don't faint again!" Italy wailed.

"She _will _faint if you keep shaking the bed like that!" Scolded Romano, and Japan couldn't help smiling.

"... I was shaking the bed?"

"Italy?"

"That's me!" Italy cheered, apparently forgetting her sister's reprimanding and sending the bed in a flurry all over again.

"What… What happened?"-Turning to Japan- "How are the Allies?"

"Please do not worry about them for now Germany. I anticipate that they are still resting from the last battle- you have plenty of time to rest and regain your strength", Japan assured.

Romano nodded towards her (which struck Germany as odd, considering that before recent events Romano had been avoiding and cursing her presence), "I'm glad to see you have finally awaken. You made us all quite worried there (Germany couldn't make heads or tails whether that was intended to make her feel bad or a show of hospitality)- Veneziano here wouldn't leave the room at all."

Germany smiled, whilst Italy squirmed, her face flushed with glee.

"Well then, I suppose I'd better leave you two at it then. I'm sure you and Veneziano have a lot of things to catch up on", and with a final nod, Romano left their presence.

"I'd better go home as well- my boss is anticipating my arrival. Please excuse me", and Japan left as well, closing the door gently behind her.

Germany diverted her attention back to Italy.

"So…" The other nation began nervously (which was not like her unless she made a big mess of herself- oh wait, that explains it), "how… How are you feeling now?"

Italy gestured to her right hand. It was still bandaged (in something more suitable than a piece of ripped cloth), but Germany could tell that the bleeding had stopped and that the wound was healing up rather nicely. Apart from the hand, the rest of the wounds on her body had healed.

"I'm fine, thank you Italy", Germany answered truthfully.

"Yay! I'm glad", Italy gushed before falling quiet once more, twiddling her thumb nervously.

"…Italy?"

"Yes Germany?"

"What happened back there? At the colosseum?"

"Hm?"

"Well, I'm not exactly sure how to put this, but... Back then you were acting so… Ah-"

"Cold? Different?" Finished Italy.

"Um… Yes."

Italy paused, feigning interest at the ceiling, before sighing, "I… Well, I guess I just sort of, like, couldn't handle the truth so I flew off the handle for a bit…"

"A bit?"

"Um… maybe a… um, a bit more?" Italy grinned sheepishly.

Germany couldn't help chuckling.

"So… You knew there was something wrong Germany? Is that why you came?"

"When Italia Veneziano doesn't call from the colosseum just for a hug, you know something's wrong."

Italy's cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. Germany grinned, feeling intense euphoria overcome her.

Italy was just too cute.

* * *

For the first time in what seemed to be _ages_, Italy felt her heart at ease, felt happy.

She felt alive.

She and Germany had a deep conversation that seemed to go on forever (_and still_, thought Italy, _it wasn't enough_)- they talked about anything that's everything, relived memories and beautiful pasts. They laughed together at the particularly funny ones and tossed aside those that involved tears.

Italy had never seen Germany so lax and (openly) cheerful- and it made her glad to see her friend this way.

The two were so content with each other's company that time seemed to just fly by. When Italy glanced at the clock last, it was seven.

The next time, it was ten.

"Oh Germany… It's getting late. You should get some rest", Italy jumped off the bed (for even _she _knew that the ill required plenty of rest, absolute and no exceptions, not even for a nation that had participated and survived in two world wars).

Switching off the lights, Italy was about to shut the door behind her when she heard Germany's voice in the darkness.

"Italy."

She peeked her head back through the door, "Yes?"

"I want you to sleep with me tonight."

Italy's eyes widened, her hand came to her mouth. Could she have mistaken!

But there was Germany, beaming at her in anticipation.

"Oh… S-sure Germany", she stuttered, shuffling nervously back to the bed.

Germany had already made space for her on the bed; she gestured for Italy to get in.

Italy could feel her heart fluttering in her chest as she sank under the covers. So warm and comforting… Italy never wanted to leave.

"Sorry Italy. I didn't want you to leave just yet" the other nation beamed, "if that's alright with you."

"Oh! What? No, it's perfectly fine", Italy blurted, "Because I don't feel like leaving either to be honest.

"That's good."

"Um… Germany?"

"Yes?"

"Back at the colosseum… You said a bunch of things to me that, well, makes me really happy now", she turned her head to look at Germany, "and you really mean all those things you said to me; the things that makes me really happy now? Do you?"

Germany turned her head to return the gaze. In the dim light of the moon, Italy could see a slight blush creep onto her cheeks.

"Yes- yes Italy. I did mean all those things I said" Germany nodded, "the things that make you happy. I love you."

Italy could feel herself grin from ear to ear, her cheeks burning as she wrapped an arm around Germany and squeezed.

"Yay! I love you too Germany!"

Germany brushed a stray curl away from Italy's face and planted a soft kiss on her forehead before returning the embrace.

"Thank you Italy. Thank you."

They both fell asleep in each other's arms.

And they will continue to live that way- together in an embrace- for the rest of their days.

* * *

**So... Well, that's it for now. Tell me what you think about it- I'm _dying _to know! Thank you sosososo much for reading, you have _no idea_ how happy you've made me! :D**

**Flowers and regards!**

**-Plumeria-hi**


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